


Ambitious

by motherconfessor



Category: The Flight Attendant (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female Ejaculation, Knifeplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27738760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherconfessor/pseuds/motherconfessor
Summary: Miranda's come to collect something from your boss' office, that is until she discovers your most recent purchase.
Relationships: Miranda Croft/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80





	Ambitious

**Author's Note:**

> I...nope, I've got nothing in my defence.
> 
> It's porn, it's pure porn. No emotions, only porn.

You were a receptionist to a dance studio in the low-end district of downtown. While your boss was on leave, she asked you to pick up a few things on the weekend. It’d been a simple request, could you please, please take the books and drop them off at the accountant.

No big deal. The streets were quiet, allowing you to park out the front of the studio.

Before the errand, you went to pick up a present for yourself. The dance studio sat across from a sex shop. Given the late hour, there were no clients or work colleagues to see you walk into the building and come out with a discreetly packaged present in a plain bag before you slipped back across the road to the studio, unlocking the front door.

Flicking on the lights, you went to the back office, placing your discreet bag onto the desk before you searched the filing cabinet behind the desk. The plan was to take the books, set them in your car and then drop them off on Monday before you made your way back home to _unwrap_ your present with a glass of wine and whatever fantasy you felt like.

You didn’t hear the door open, nor did you hear the steps of the new occupant entering into the studio. It was only when you found the books and set on the desk that you gasped, seeing the woman standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, the studio’s not open,” you advised.

“Oh, I’m aware,” she said, and then smiled at you. “You must be her receptionist. I’m Miranda.”

_Miranda_ , you’d heard her call through a few times, each time letting your boss know, and no matter what was going on, she’d always taken the call. It didn’t matter if she was in the middle of class or on a lunch break, if Miranda rang, your boss answered. She was beautiful, you thought, but also frightening, taking up the entire space of the doorway despite her small frame.

“I’m––“

“I know,” she said. And then she was stepping through the doorframe, her eyes drawing around the room. “Your boss should have left something for me. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Ahh…” you swallowed, feeling cornered between the desk and the filing cabinet. “Did she say what it was?”

“Just a box,” she said softly, and her eyes drew down the length of your body as if she had thoughts about searching you before she turned her eyes continued looking over the room. “Perhaps it’s this?” she inquired, stepping towards the bag you’d set on the desk.

You went to disagree, but before you get the first word out, it was too late, she’d opened the bag, pulling out the rectangular box.

You flushed and looked away. “That’s, umm, that’s mine,” you said.

“Ohh, ambitious are you?” she asked, looking it over, making no attempt to act embarrassed. Somehow, it was worse watching her eyes light up as she turned the box over to read its side. “No expense spared. Quite a girth on it, my, my.” She looked up at you and you felt your whole body electrify under her stare. It _was_ ambitious, but you’d wanted to try something bigger.

“I think we should give this a go, hmm?” she said.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyebrows rose, mouth quirking, “Give it a go,” she said again, eyes firmly on you. “Don’t be shy.”

“I––“ you felt a half-dozen arguments rise in your throat, but she just stared at you and the words seemed to die away. “I don’t know you,” was all the came out.

Miranda stepped closer and all at once you were pinned between her and the filing cabinet, “You know me,” she said, and then you watched as she pulled out a butterfly knife, the _click_ , _switch_ in the air as the blade revealed its self. You eyes watched the knife, chest rising and falling as it came closer. “I’m _Miranda_ ,” she purred. “You always answered my calls with that _lovely_ voice of yours. At the very least, we’re _acquaintances_.”

There was an argument to be made there.

“Have you ever fucked an acquaintance?”

You couldn’t press back any further as the knife drew closer, touching against the button of your shirt. “I…umm,” your mouth felt dry, feeling the button press firmly against your skin. “N-no,” you answered.

“There’s a first time for everything. And, it’ll be fun,” she said, a patronising expression as she nodded, tongue pressed between her teeth. “Right here, in this studio. We could even do it in front of the mirrors.”

Your eyes fluttered, the image filling your mind. It was wrong, it was so very, very wrong. But something low in your belly flickered. “I _can’t_ ,” you said.

“You can,” she said, and you feel the knife press, cutting underneath the button. It popped off, dropping to the ground. “Oh, don’t get upset, I only want to play. Wouldn’t you like to try this out? I can be very… _encouraging_.”

Another button popped, pattering to the ground and your breath came in a slow, deep inhale as your bra was revealed. You felt a hand rest on your hip, holding you steady, as the knife’s tip came to touch against your sternum, dragging down to the front clasp of your bra.

Your eyes flicked to hers, and then you were lost in the blue of her irises, feeling the blade twist underneath your clasp until the bra was _snapping_ undone. You gasped, feeling the weight of your breasts drop and then the knife was making its way down, drawing over your skin, down your abdomen, popping buttons as she pleased until it was all undone. “That’s not a no,” she said.

You’d forgotten to speak. You should say no. She might even listen.

But did you want to say no?

“I…”

“You,” she echoed, the Scottish lilt prominent as she said it, and you found your eyes dropping to her lips, watching as they tugged into a smirk.

“I don’t have a lube,” you said.

She laughed.

You heard the _swish, click_ of the knife disappear into her coat, and then both of her hands were on your hips. She turned you around, facing you to the filing cabinet, and then she tugged off your shirt and bra, dropping them to the ground. Her mouth was hot on your throat, teeth nipping before sucked at the point where your neck met your shoulder.

It was dizzying, exciting. You moaned and whined at the pleasure centralised on your throat.

And then her hands grabbed at your bare breasts, squeezing them in her gloves. “Oh _God_ ,” you whined, clutching at the metal drawers. There was a noise of rocking metal, of your moans, and then you could feel one hand drop away from your breast before it was popping the button of your jeans, undoing the fly.

She slid underneath the elastic band of your underwear. And your eyes flew open. _This is really happening_ , you thought.

There were so many red flags. So many things to tell you to try to get out and run, but as Miranda kissed and bit at your throat, one hand squeezing at your breast as the other stroked over your vulva, you found it difficult to focus on what you _should_ or _should not do_. It was easy to lose yourself in how good it felt.

The hand in your underwear stroked long and firm, as it did, you rolled your hips, feeling your breath come out in heavy pants. Her fingers slid over the entrance, teasing before it drew up to the clit and then back down. It would hurt, you realise, if she entered you like that, but you didn’t care, you just wanted those hands to keep stroking you like that.

You wanted them inside of you.

“I don’t think the lack of _lube_ is going to be a problem,” she said with a laugh as she pulled away.

Her absence was cold and you felt the chill of the room wash over you before you exhaled, turning on your heel to face her. Realising how bare you were, your hands coming up to hide your chest.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” she said, knocking them away. “I think we’re more than acquaintances now, don’t you?”

You let your hands settle at your sides, fingers curling and uncurling as your flush underneath her gaze.

“Asked you a question,” she reminded, and there’s something dark in her voice.

“We are,” you agree, and your eyes draw up, watching the expression soften back into amusement. There was a pause and you bit the inside of your mouth. “What…what now?” you asked.

“Eager, are you?” she asked.

You flushed. “No, I only meant––“

“It’s okay. I’m sure when you picked up the box, you were thinking about how long it would take to get home before you stuff that inside of you.” She tilted her head at you, eyes drawing down slowly this time, and you felt your chest rise and fall with a low drawn breath. “Take ‘em off, then.”

“What?”

She pointed to your jeans. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

You nodded, scrambling and pulled your shoes off, socks following before you went for the pants.

“Uh!” she commanded, “Wee bit slower. I want to enjoy myself with this too.”

You watched as she settled to lean against the desk in a lazy stance, smile widening before she gestured for you to continue.

“Oh…okay,” you agreed and your thumbs looped around the waist of the jeans and slowly tugged them down, before awkwardly stepping out of one leg than the other.

“Those two,” she said, pointing at the cotton underwear.

“Of course,” you agreed and slid them down your legs too. The air was cold and in the cotton, you could already see a wet spot from your arousal. It was noticeable from your vantage point, which meant that it was noticeable from hers.

A flutter flew in your belly as you looked up at her, hands going to cross in front of you before you settled, setting them at your sides.

“That’s a gold girl,” Miranda said, and then she was turning, grabbing the box. “Out here, then.”

Your hearted thudded. You were leaving your clothes behind, heading out of the office into the dance studio. Your feet pressing from carpet to the smooth, polished floor. In the centre of the room, you stood still, waiting as gooseflesh broke out over your skin.

She paused by the side of the room and her eyes looked at you, amusement in them before she pulled out her dagger and cut through the box.

The toy was removed. It was bigger than you expected, wider and you felt yourself grow nervous as Miranda examined it.

There was a suction base to it and you watched as her eyes drew around the room, across its floors and its many mirrors, before she chose a spot where the two walls convened. The mirrors were smooth, lined against the perpendicular sides, so you had a full view of front-facing self from multiple angles.

The toy was set down, its suction base sticking to the floor and she looked up at you. Eyebrows quirking as she nodded to it. “Well, go on then,” she said. “Show a girl what you can do.”

Shyness overcame you as you looked at the toy and its reflection against all the mirrors. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see your flustered expression staring back, the warm of your skin, despite the chill of the room. You stood, nervous, anxiety pulling at you and you watched as Miranda’s expression went from amusement to annoyance, and then slowly grew to inpatient in the spans of thirty seconds.

“On your knees,” she barked.

You obeyed, scrambling before the toy and dropping to your knees. And then she stepped behind you and in the reflection you watched as her eyes narrowed, her hands coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Well?” she said, her fingers digging into your shoulders.

You drew in a breath. “It’s…big.”

“It is, but won’t you be pleased with how well it’ll fit once it’s inside of you?” You nodded, biting your lip. “Good girl. Now get to it, show me how well you can ride it.”

On your knees, you shuffled forward and felt your hand grasp the toy. Even in your hand it was big. It seemed _too big_. You were almost certain it wouldn’t fit.

You pressed your hips forward, feeling it knock against your pubis mound before your lifted them and then settled until you felt the head of the dildo press against your vulva. Your eyes looked up and watched as Miranda stared back, eyes sparkling as her face otherwise remained impassive.

You rolled your hips and tried to press down on it but stopped as you felt it pinch, the opening of your vagina resisting to it. It was too big, you needed to work up to it. “I can’t,” you told her, shaking your head. “It’s too big, I––“

In the mirror, Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” and her hands pushed at your shoulder and you slid deeper onto it, crying out.

“No!” you told her, feeling your walls push it out as you dropped backwards, behind the toy. “No, it’s too big, I can’t do it. I was too ambitious, I can’t. I can’t!”

“Shh,” she hushed, a sudden softness to her down as she crouched down behind you at eye-level. “It is big, but you just need a helping hand.”

“I don’t think––“

“Come here,” she said, and you watched as she sat back on her behind you, tugging onto her lap. “Spread your legs for me,” she coaxed, and her gloved hand slid down between your thighs, her head nuzzling at your neck.

You drew a breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest before you open your legs.

“Wider now,” she said, tugging one leg as far as your muscles would allow. You did the same with other, looking into the mirror at how open and spread you were. “There’s a good girl, now… _watch_ ,” she growled the last word and your eyes fluttered, hips rocking as in the mirror, you watched one gloved hand slide up your thigh as the other came to hold over your breast.

And then, like before, she was squeezing at your breast as her fingers stroked over the vulva and up, circling your clit. Her eyes holding yours in the mirror as you focused on her hands, watching as she stroked and circled and teased, pinching at your clit hard enough your hips jerked before she slid down.

It felt good, and then you watched as the gloves stroke over the opening, still sore from being pushed further onto the toy. “See,” she said, and you watch as the two fingers slid inside of you. They were firm, rough, but it didn’t stretch you out at the toy had. Your hips rocked, eyes fluttering but not closing as you watched yourself get fucked.

And then a third finger slid inside. You gasped at the pressure, but still, she stroked slow, easing inside of you and you exhaled at the fullness, feeling a wave lap low in your belly (though you noticed her deliberate neglect of your clit).

“Let’s try another, shall we?” she asked and you nodded, watching as her pinky finger drew and pressed against you. You tensed, vaginal walls tensing, but she pressed firmer, slowly inside of you. You felt _stretched_ , tight around her fingers, and you hissed a breath. And then you exhaled, feeling her pump inside of you once, twice and then a third time, a low chuckle coming from behind you as she watched your body respond.

“I think we’re ready now,” she said, and then all four fingers slid out at once.

You whimpered, feeling the emptiness from their absence.

“Keep your legs spread,” she warned, reaching to grab at the toy.

You nodded, biting back a whimper as she pulled the toy from the ground with a sucking _pop_ and then it was sliding against you.

Rocking your hips over it, you felt the head draw against your vulva and you couldn’t deny you excitement growing low in your belly. Perhaps it would work, perhaps it would just feel _tight_.

She angled the toy’s head and your hips paused, heels digging on the floorboards as you felt it press against you.

It was still too big, too tight. And you whimpered, trying to pull away.

“Stop squirming, you haven’t given it an honest go,” She said, and the hand on your chest dropped around your waist, holding you firm. “ _Try it_ ,” she said, and the look she gave you made your tremble. It was a command and you _would_ obey.

You watched the toy press again, and you pushed with your hips, pressing firmer onto it. The toy slid inside of you, your body tight as you gasped, squirming against her as if to pull away.

“I-I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” she said, pressing it deeper. It hurt and bit your lip. But there was a part of you enjoying it. It was barely an inch in and it felt _good_ despite the pain. You nodded, and she pressed firmer, her smile widening in the mirror as she pressed it deeper and deeper, and then you gasped, mouth falling open as you realised the entire toy was inside of you.

“I did it,” you exhaled, and then you felt as she began to slide it out––before sliding it back inside. Your toes curled, heels digging as you whimpered, feeling the tightness expand and pull. It was big, it was _so big_ , but you gasped, feeling a tightness forming low in your belly.

“Aren’t you a good girl,” she said, and then she was sliding it back and forth, again. First slowly, and then her pace increased until she was well and truly fucking you with it.

Your eyes closed, head falling back against her shoulder as your back arched, hips rocking––your body was growing accustomed to its size and the tight, stretched feeling was _good_.

You panted, and then gasped, and then through half-lidded eyes, you watched as the hand around your waist slid down to circle at your clit. “ _Oh!”_

“There we go,” she said. “See how good you look.”

In the mirror, you were a performance, pornographic in how spread-out your legs were, how your body bounced over the toy, head tilted back against her shoulder. As the dildo slid out, you could see the lights reflecting on the arousal that dripped down its shaft.

“Say my name.”

Your mouth parted and then your moans were filling the dance room, echoing its walls. “ _Miranda_ ,” you said, watching your hips rock over the toy.

You caught her eye in the mirror and watched as stared back with unabashed hunger, circling your clit, filling you up with the dildo. “You’re mine now,” she said, “No one will ever fill you up as I did.”

Biting your lip as you bit back a whine, you nodded. “Miran… _please,_ ” you whispered, feeling her pace increasing, your clit was pulsing underneath her touch, your body squeezing and tensing. You dropped back against her, pressing deeper and firmer onto the toy with each stroke. “I think…I….”

“Are you going to come for me?”

You nodded.

“I want you to watch. Watch as I make you come for me,” she said and you watched as her teeth bared in the mirror, eyes staring not unlike a wolf before a hare.

The climax built and then you were crying out, watching your mouth gasp open, chest rising, hips rocking forward as you clenched, muscles pulling and convulsing until a sudden gush of wetness squirted from between your legs, spreading out, on the ground and against the very bottom of the mirror.

The toy was pulled out, the hand dropping away from clit as you gasped, your knees falling shut as you felt the tremors rumbled through you, before they drew away too, leaving only a hum drawing through your body. “Would you look at that,” Miranda said, her voice filled with mocking surprise. “You really _did_ enjoy yourself.”

You felt the heat wash over your body, a sudden shyness overtaking you as you tried to scramble out of her lap, but she held you firm, setting the toy down before she spread your legs apart again in the mirror.

She was admiring her work, of the wetness that coat your thighs and down onto the wooden floor. A hand reached out and stroked against you and you whimpered, pulling away at the sensitivity of the touch. And then you watched as she let go, allowing you to slide off her lap as she rose to her feet.

She cleaned her hands on her coat before adjusting the lapels. You watched as she seemed to check herself over in the mirror, fixing her hair before she smirked down on you. “That was fun,” she said. “But I’ll be taking those books now.”

“Books?”

“Mm. We need to check over the finances. Make sure everything’s in order,” she said. “But I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart. I think that toy would look lovely in your mouth, don’t you?” And then you were left in your wet spot, watching as she went to the office, grabbed the books and left the studio, with only a passing smirk and a tip of her head.

The air was getting cool, and when the door slid shut, you rose to your feet and took the toy, making your way back to the office where you dressed (your shirt now ruined) and set the toy and its box back into the bag. You needed to clean up the mess, but you sat down first in the office chair, drawing in a breath and then exhaled, feeling the soreness in your vagina ease.

_Miranda_. You felt the name hum through your mind as hunger grew low in your belly. You hoped against all logic that you would see her again, already imaging the weight of the toy on your tongue.


End file.
